


warmth

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, just them getting high and being in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's a wondrous thing, Kiyoomi fathoms after no thought at all, to be loose-limbed in the arms of the man who gives him the sun.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	warmth

**Author's Note:**

> man i wrote this while high idk lmfao

The last of the sunset is the only light left filtering through the sheer white curtains drawn lazily across the entrance to the balcony, but Kiyoomi doesn't bother moving from his spot on the couch. 

Wakatoshi's lap makes a comfortable headrest. The soft fabric of his sweatpants and his natural warmth could soothe him to sleep if he closes his eyes. His hands are by his sides, his focus on an old rerun of a movie playing on the television, stare boring into the screen in steady concentration, lips drawn in a tight line as the main character stumbles in the sheets with her love interest.

Kiyoomi huffs, tugs at the cotton of his own shirt that Wakatoshi had mixed up in their laundry (out of fondness, he had let him keep it), and whispers into his abdomen, "Wakatoshi-kun, you can kiss me you know."

He looks down from the movie, where the couple on the screen begin to mouth along each other's jawlines, clearly intoxicated in each other's embraces, and his eyes widen slightly in the dim of the living room. 

"Would you like that?" 

"Yes," Kiyoomi moves his position to raise himself, hands at either side of Wakatoshi's thighs. The last of the sunlight tints his skin a syrupy golden, so he's a dripping sweet delicacy that Kiyoomi has allowed himself to taste endlessly on the same couch, under the same sun. He watches him for a moment longer, just shy of his lips. Takes his time drinking in the sculpt of his cheeks, the slight downwards curve of his mouth, the furrow of his brow. 

"Kiss me." 

"Okay," he responds, voice stiff and strained. Both of their bodies are tense when they meet; Kiyoomi can feel his shoulders strain against his shirt when he moves to grip onto them. And Wakatoshi presses a chaste kiss on him, retracts quickly when Kiyoomi doesn't kiss him back.

"Did you not like it?" He freezes, stops himself from kissing Kiyoomi again. 

"No, you're fine. I just have a better idea-" 

Humming, Kiyoomi moves off him completely. He doesn't offer a clear answer as Wakatoshi watches him slink to his room to grab what he's looking for. It's hidden in his nightstand, in a minimalist black case. Cool quartz meets the tips of his fingers; he takes the sleek pen out and moves to grab the metal tool beside it. 

He covers the pen in his palm, concealing it as he walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out a small glass jar in the back, filled to the brim with a thick, honey-like concentrate. 

Wakatoshi watches wordlessly as Kiyoomi seats himself in between his legs on the soft carpet, lays out the pen, glass jar, and dab tool in a neat row on the wooden table they keep picture frames of their family on. It's exhilarating, they haven't done this in a while, not since they started living together half a year ago, and they were both thrown into the whirlwind of the Olympics season. 

With Wakatoshi's gaze on his hands, Kiyoomi decides to make the moment worth his while. His forefinger runs up and around the pen, tantalizingly slow until he reaches the mouthpiece to screw it off smoothly. 

Kiyoomi is aware his hands are pretty; he's caught Wakatoshi staring at the way his wrists snap and bend and move both on the court and around the both of them, hotly sliding and ruining their clean sheets. Now he moves to twist open the cold glass, thumb spinning the lid, revealing the honeyed color of the sugar wax. 

"Watch," Kiyoomi says, tilting his head back, noticing how his eyes have lit up a shade. "And learn." 

It's not a difficult process, scraping a small piece of the wax into the heating chamber. Kiyoomi prefers it over the smell of bud on his fingertips and the stench it leaves on his clothes any day. When he's finished loading the pen, he runs the tool down with a tissue and closes the jar, setting it to the side. 

He sinks back into the couch on the opposite side of Wakatoshi, presses the activation button five times, and waits a moment for the coils to warm over. His eyes meet his boyfriend's heavy, unwavering stare, and Kiyoomi feels high enough under his heady look as he brings the mouthpiece to his lips and takes the first hit. Sucking in long, smoke fills him leisurely, soothing and slow and sweet. 

Exhaling, he passes the device to Wakatoshi, who takes it silently and inhales without a fuss. The smoke releasing from his lips in thick puffs shouldn't be as attractive as it is, especially not how he coughs into his elbow afterward. And Kiyoomi fumbles for the pen across his lap makes a muffled noise when there's a hand on his chest pushing him back into the couch. 

"Would you be okay if I-" 

Always considerate, always leaving Kiyoomi with an ache in his chest, wanting, no— _needing_ —him like flowers need the sun to bloom. 

"Yes, please. I trust you." 

Wakatoshi takes a long hit, lips wrapped pink around the mouth, and he holds it in—saves it just for Kiyoomi. It's not effective, especially not with a pen. Still, Kiyoomi doesn't mind it when he presses his thumb to his lips to part them open, and languidly kisses the smoke into his mouth. 

It tastes of dense red-richness, and Kiyoomi wants to kiss him again and again and again. He steals the pen back first and takes another drawn-out hit before his lips are back on Wakatoshi, kissing him until his body thrums warm with a satisfied numbness, toes curling and stomach fluttering. The room begins to spin in a mellow slow motion, warmth seeping deep into his chest as Wakatoshi kisses back, dreamy and saccharine. 

A final hit and Kiyoomi climbs on his lap a second time, quietly nosing at the column of his throat and laughing when he feels hands at his sides, tugging at his shirt for permission. Wakatoshi slips his fingers under the hem when he nods against his neck, and even his palm is like the sun. Heated and relieving as it touches his naturally frigid skin. 

Everything feels like too much, too little. The "I love you" he gasps out when Wakatoshi nips at his neck while running gentle circles along his spine doesn't even seem like enough. There's so much more he wants to say, but all he can do is sigh out his name and relax completely into the tenderness of his body. 

The movie is faintly rolling credits in the background, music a low hum, last of the sun finally gone down. But the sun in the sky isn't the one he loves, it's the man basking in his glowing high under him. Eyes half-lidded, searing a beautiful heat into Kiyoomi's flesh that melts away all of the leftover tension. 

And it's a wondrous thing, Kiyoomi fathoms after no thought at all, to be loose-limbed in the arms of the man who gives him the sun. To breathe flower into each other's mouths, smile easily, and love so tenderly. 

When the high fades off into the night, drowsily mouthing at his jaw while engulfed in his arms comes second-nature. Kiyoomi nestles in closer, unable to keep away from the warmth. 

They fall asleep on the couch. Both of them wake up to the sun rising to a full through the curtains, Kiyoomi laughing at the red-mark carved on Wakatoshi's arm from the pen left forgotten on the couch. 

"I think it would be in our interest to shower," Wakatoshi says, pushing Kiyoomi's curls back from his sticky skin and planting a quick kiss on his forehead. 

Kiyoomi hums, sober now. The sun is bright. He is in love and loved. "Lead the way." 

Sunset, sunrise; they love just the same. 


End file.
